


At the Burial Grounds--The Missing Scenes

by BlueSaffire



Category: Last of the Mohicans (1992)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-04
Updated: 2018-07-04
Packaged: 2019-06-05 06:01:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15164210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueSaffire/pseuds/BlueSaffire
Summary: What happened between Alice and Uncas at the burial ground? This one-shot speculates on what may have taken place between them . . . because SOMETHING obviously did!





	At the Burial Grounds--The Missing Scenes

**Author's Note:**

> (Please note, this one-shot appeared previously on the FF site.) If there is interest, I'll post a continuation.

 

Intent on watching and listening for the intruders, Uncas hardly noticed the woman who crawled over to him. When her quaking body brushed against his, he glanced down at the younger Munro sister, wondering what she was doing here next to him. But in the faint light of the half moon, he saw her eyes wide with fear. He returned his gaze to the Ottawa and French creeping toward the burial site, his rifle at the ready.

 

Alice’s harsh breaths began to explode in tiny bursts, seeming to echo across the grounds. Uncas looked at her once again, trying to decide if he should silence her or continue his vigil. He dropped his rifle, slipped his arms around her and pressed a hand against her mouth as he rolled her towards the ground and covered her upper body with his. She struggled. “I won’t hurt you,” he whispered against her ear, the soft coil of her pinned up hair grazing his temple. Her skin felt clammy, but supple. Would his calloused hand scratch her delicate cheeks? He felt the breath ease out of her as her body relaxed and she melted into him, the skirts of her dress entangling between his legs. He looked up, straining to see and hear any movement beyond the fallen tree trunk behind which they hid.

 

The invaders continued to advance, speaking French in hushed tones. The Ottawa leader halted, gesturing to back away. After what appeared to be a short debate, the Ottawa Chief insisted, “Non. Pas possible . . .” They silently retreated.

 

Although the danger had passed, neither Alice nor Uncas moved, lying in their odd embrace for a moment longer than was necessary. She fit perfectly in his arms. He remembered earlier that day, just before they’d climbed a steep rock face beside a rushing river; she had stopped, seemed to admire the wild, cascading water as tiny droplets dotted her face. Despite the traumatic events she had witnessed not long before, watching the Huron slaughter her brave English soldiers, she had opened to the beauty surrounding her. No one else in their little group had looked beyond carefully stepping one foot in front of the other.

 

Uncas pulled away and sat up, leaned his back against the tree trunk. He saw his father gazing at him from a position by a tree several feet away. Even from this distance, he could see Chingachgook’s eyes narrow with speculation. Uncas looked over at his brother and the elder Munro sister settled several paces to his left, murmuring like they were already lovers. The Major sat on a rock situated to the right of Chingachgook, frowning intently at Nathaniel and Miss Munro. Finally, he looked down at the young woman still lying on the ground next to him.

 

Alice raised herself onto her elbows and stared up at Uncas with luminous eyes. He could see the fear still etched in their depths. “It’s safe now. They won’t return,” he said quietly, expecting her to question him. Instead, she simply nodded then turned and sat up. Her eyes wandered to her sister and Nathaniel as they whispered to one another, then to the brooding Major. She seemed to come to some kind of decision as she returned her gaze to him.

 

“May I . . .” she faltered, opened and closed her mouth then lowered her eyes. Silent. Still.

 

“Rest,” he said, “I’ll keep watch.” Those large, innocent eyes gazed up at him with what appeared to be gratitude, but he couldn’t be sure in the dim light.

 

“Thank you,” she breathed, then turned away and settled on her left side, hands pillowing her cheek.

 

He reached for his pack and pulled out a spare shirt, folding it into a thick bundle. He touched her shoulder. She flinched but turned to him. Was she repulsed by his touch? She had lain quietly in his arms when danger was near. Perhaps that was the difference. Now that she was relatively safe, he should not deign to touch her. She leaned on her forearms and positioned herself so that she was half lying and half turned towards him. One arm skimmed his thigh as she moved. “Yes?” she inquired, her knuckles grazing the exposed skin between the top of his leggings and his tunic.

 

As he held out his folded shirt, he hoped his eyes didn’t betray the sensation he felt at the slight contact. When she didn’t move, he said, “For your head.” He placed his shirt on the ground and patted it.

 

“You seem so sure they will not return.”

 

He glanced up at the split platforms suspended above them. “Sacred ground,” he replied.

 

She followed his gaze and sucked in a breath. He thought the sight of the dead frightened her until she whispered, “At the cabin today. You knew them well.” It was not a question.

 

The breath escaped his lungs and he closed his eyes. “The Camerons. Old friends. Good people.”

 

“I’m sorry.” She turned back onto her left side and laid her head on his forest green shirt, twisting her fingers into the soft fabric.

 

Uncas looked at her another moment, wondering if he’d really felt the back of her hand gently press against his thigh before she’d turned away. He glanced up and again saw Chingachgook staring at him. He slid down until his shoulders rested against the tree trunk and leaned his head back. He closed his eyes, knowing his father would wake him when it was his turn to stand watch.

 

A short time later, Uncas felt a hand grasp his shoulder. He did not move, except to open his eyes and see his father leaning over him. Something shifted along his left leg. He looked down; Alice’s back was curled against him. His father grunted, glanced at the sleeping girl and strode away. Uncas, rifle in hand, rose to take his turn on watch. He stared down at Alice once more then headed to his post.

 

He’d never feared burial grounds. He found the silence peaceful, almost welcoming. When he thought of the mother who had died giving birth to him, he felt loss. It had always been the three of them: him, his father, his brother, with occasional visits to the homesteads and camps of friends and relatives. Both sons knew how much they were loved, despite the lack of a mother in their lives. And while it was true that his father would like to see him settled with his own family, he knew Chingachgook would never force him to do so unless he was truly committed. But today, he’d sensed a shift in his secure world. Clearly, his brother, lying with a protective arm draped across Miss Munro’s waist, had found something new to draw his attention. Uncas wondered what the Major would do besides scowl and huff. He did not seem to be a man who would easily accept losing a woman to a half wild trapper like his brother. And what of himself? While he knew many women, none of them had ever made him consider leaving the life he led with his father and brother. He always enjoyed visiting the Camerons and playing with their children. It felt a natural part of his life. But beyond that, he hadn’t considered his own future, instead, choosing to live day-to-day, season-to-season.

 

A soft whimper assaulted his ears and he cocked his head, listening intently. He heard it again and knew who cried in the night. Swiveling his eyes side to side, he looked to see if anyone else had heard, but all was still. He crept towards Alice. Her body began to twist in agitation. Uncas did not want to startle her, but he knew he had to wake her. “Miss,” he whispered as he touched her shoulder, trailed the backs of his fingers down her arm. “Miss,” he repeated, and wrapped his hand around her upper arm. She jerked awake, inhaling sharply and scrambled to her knees. Uncas’ grip tightened just enough to steady her. “You were dreaming,” he murmured.

 

“Oh. I’m . . . I’m sorry,” she mumbled. “Did I wake you?”

 

He shook his head. “On watch,” he replied, “I heard you.” He let go of her arm.

 

“I’m sorry,” she repeated. “I don’t mean to endanger everyone. I . . . I’ve never—

 

“No need to apologize. Just try to sleep. Long day ahead.”

 

“How far before we reach Fort William Henry?”

 

“Another day’s travel,” he responded, “sleep.” He stood and ambled back to his post. He felt her eyes upon him and wondered what she was thinking.

 

A few hours before dawn, Uncas tapped Nathaniel on the shoulder; he rolled over and sat up in one swift, silent movement. Uncas glanced at the elder Munro sister, but she did not stir. Nathaniel nodded as they both wandered to their posts, Nathaniel to stand watch and Uncas back to his position beside Alice. He thought perhaps he should rest in another spot, away from her, for the remainder of the night, but decided he wanted to be nearby if she had another nightmare. He dropped to the ground and rested his head on his pack while she remained curled on her left side, facing away from him. With his arm slung across his stomach, he heard Alice sigh beside him and shift until her back brushed against his arm. It was a while before his eyes finally drifted closed and he fell into a light sleep.

 

When he awoke, shades of yellow, pink, and orange streaked across the dawn sky. He looked at the young woman still nestled against him and saw the golden colors of the sunrise in her blonde hair. Sometime during the early morning hours, she had turned onto her right side. Her fingers encircled his forearm at the crook of his elbow and her knees nestled against his hip. He extracted his arm as gently as he could, rose nimbly to his feet and went to wash up in a nearby stream. He removed his shirt and sluiced water over his arms and chest, his face, his neck. Water trickled down the hills and valleys of his back and dripped off the ends of his hair. Nathaniel joined him a few moments later, doing the same. Uncas could feel his brother’s eyes upon him.

 

“Sleep well?” Nathaniel asked.

 

Uncas grunted. “You?”

 

“As well as can be expected, I reckon.”

 

“What do you think we’ll find when we reach the fort?” Uncas asked, glancing at him.

 

“Not sure. Be prepared for anything.”

 

“Always.” He rose, tossed his shirt over his head, tied his belt around his waist, and tucked his weapons into place.

 

“Uncas,” Nathaniel began.

 

He knew from the tone of his voice that Nathaniel was about to offer a lecture of some kind, or perhaps advice. While never harsh or unreasonable, Uncas had no interest in hearing what Nathaniel had to say at this time. He didn’t know himself what he felt about the situation in which they found themselves. Or why Miss Alice Munro had chosen to seek him out in her moments of fear instead of remaining by the side of a military man she seemed to know well and trust. Or why she remained beside him for the rest of the night. And he was in no mood to think about it too deeply at the moment. “The women and the Major ready?” he asked instead.

 

“They were preparin’ when I left.”

 

Uncas nodded and turned away. When he got back to the burial site, everyone was gathering their few belongings before continuing their trek to Fort William Henry. Alice sat on the edge of the rock Duncan had occupied the night before, fingering a green shirt neatly folded in her lap. He hesitated, unsure if he should approach. Her gaze met his and she stood. He wandered towards her. “Thank you,” she murmured looking up at him through her lashes and held his shirt out to him. He thought he detected the ghost of a smile on her lips.

 

Before he could respond, Cora and the Major hastened to Alice, bracketing her between them. “We must be off, Alice. Are you ready?” Cora asked then glanced at Uncas, a question flitting across her face. The Major narrowed his eyes at Uncas and clasped Alice’s arm. Uncas took his shirt, turned on his heel and strode to the log where they had slept the night before. He squatted and stuffed his shirt into his pack, heedless of the neatly folded fabric. He looked up at the trio, the Misses Munro, the Major, and watched as they turned towards his brother, just coming up from the stream. At least two of them did. Alice kept her gaze on him, a faint line between her eyebrows. He couldn’t be certain, but he felt he was witnessing a plea of some kind. He wanted to go to her, reassure her. But of course, he didn’t. He wouldn’t in front of this particular audience. And perhaps he was wrong, he thought, as she abruptly turned away when Chingachgook appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, and spoke in Mohican, urging them to be on their way. Uncas rose and slung his pack over one shoulder and his gun over the other.

 

“The sooner we get started, the sooner we reach the Fort. If all goes well, we should arrive this evening,” Nathaniel announced, looking directly at the Major and the Munro women.

 

Chingachgook motioned to Uncas, who nodded, relieved to scout the trail ahead and be free of the looks from his companions and the questions beginning to swirl through his own mind. He veered off the path to the right, traversing a ridge perhaps a few hundred paces parallel to and slightly ahead of the little group. As he watched them trudge through the underbrush, Alice, as she had the day before by the river, seemed to study her environs. He hoped that whatever they found at the fort would not be a disappointment for her, and that she and her sister would be happily reunited with their father. He turned his attention back to his surroundings and forged his way ahead.


End file.
